


Patter

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [294]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 20:17:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12638409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: patter: verb: pa-tər: talk at length without saying anything significant:(there are many definitions, this is the one I'm choosing to use)late Middle English (as a verb in the sense ‘recite (a prayer, charm, etc.) rapidly’): from paternoster





	Patter

John's teeth chattered as he glanced down at his watch while Sherlock continued to patter on, wondering when he would get to the point so they could get out of the blizzard.

"Rare for this time of year, innit?" Lestrade sighed as Sherlock rattled on.

"Him? No. Oh, you mean the snow, yeah. He told me to wear my gloves, should've listened."

"Anything bugging him recently?"

"Not that I know of."

"Sherlock? Mate? Can you, uhm, get to the point, possibly by next Tuesday, I have a haircut that day? Hmm?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Greg and looked at John rubbing his hands together, trying in vain to get his hands to warm up. "Sorry, George. It was the librarian."

"Librarian?"

"Weren't you listening?"

"Honestly? I think my ears went numb twenty minutes back, let me drive you two back to the flat, I doubt there are any cabs still on the road."

Sherlock was about to growl out an 'Are you out of your mind?' when he saw how cold John really was. He had told him to bring his gloves - instead he nodded and helped John into the back seat of Lestrade's sedan, at least it wasn't a panda. They rode in silence except for the sound of John's still chatterimg teeth.

"Home, boys. Thanks for the help, go get warm."

"Graham -"

Sherlock hopped out of the car and bolted up the stairs.

"Hope you figure out whatever it is. Night, John."

"Thanks, Greg - pints on Wednesday?"

"Course."

John made his way up the stairs, slowly. His fingers began to hurt as they were thawing out, luckily Sherlock had left their door wide open as always - what the hell? The flat was in darkness except for a fire in the fireplace, and candles on a table he'd never seen before. "Sherlock?" He took a deep breath in and - Mrs. Hudson's roast beef, yorkshire pudd - "Sherlock? Where, what the -"

"Sorry. I didn't mean for you to freeze. I had to stall, I wanted to surprise you, I had been planning this for months, I didn't expect G- Greg to have a case for us today, if I hadn't taken it, you would have known something was off. I - wanted to give you a different memory for today."

"Memory?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he slowly got to his knees. "Remember, remember..."

"The fifth of November - oh. Sherlock - wait. What are you doing?" 

"John." Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box. "Will you, do me the honour of becoming my husband?"

"Hell." John got to his knees and nodded. "Yes, Sherlock. Yes, love."


End file.
